Some Great Machinery
by but seriously
Summary: Stuck deep in the ugliest, stickiest, steamiest bit of summer, Caroline navigates a rumor- but this is not where the story goes. Cinema AU. k/c, ensemble


Stuck deep in the ugliest, stickiest, steamiest bit of summer, a rumor that Kai might be some sort of deranged weather witch starts circulating around the town, lingering in coffee shops and hanging above worn benches, because it's right after nobody goes to his 4th of July party that they all find themselves in the ugliest, stickiest, steamiest bit of summer.

"Never mind the fact that this happens literally every year?" Bonnie asks while they're queuing for coffee.

"Look, I'm not saying he's responsible for This -" And this is Caroline swatting a fly away from her already-slick neck, " - but he sure as hell has something to do with _This_ coming early."

"He was upset."

"So you agree with me?" Caroline pauses, backtracking. "You're defending him? Wait, no, I can't - _Jesus_ , it's too hot to even– _I think he's a witch, okay?"_

"Even if he is, do you really think you should be telling people?" Bonnie stands on tippytoes to see the menu over the other irritated heads in the cramped little cafe.

"I do, if it might stop This!"

"You can say it Caroline," Bonnie sighs. "You can say the word drau–"

Caroline's clamped her hand over Bonnie's mouth. "Naming it gives It power." She only releases Bonnie when Bonnie's promised, as expressively as she can with only her eyes being way of communication, that she would not stand in the way of Caroline's plight to stop Kai disseminating.

"Disseminating what?" Enzo appears.

"This," Caroline says gravely.

"Ah," Enzo nods. "So, hey, did you hear? Heard he might be some sort of deranged weather witch or something."

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The look Damon gives them when they finally saunter in can be summarized into one of utter betrayal, given how he was in the middle of brewing the first pot of the day.

"I just made coffee," he splutters.

"Smells great," Caroline says. "Listen, have you heard about–"

"No idle chit chat today!" Damon swoops around the wood and steel counter. "Seeing as how my birds aren't so eager to catch the worm–"

"We're not birds," Bonnie frowns.

Damon softens. "Of course not."

"Aren't you supposed to be changing the reels?" Enzo asks, strumming a guitar he'd pulled from behind the soda machine. He's always pulling his guitar out of places.

"He only comes out to flirt with Bonnie," Caroline says.

"No, I come out to remind you that I pay you to have jobs," Damon says. "And to flirt with Bonnie."

"Subtle," Katherine appears.

Damon sighs. "How are you two always doing that?"

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When Damon's disappeared into the Reel Room and Katherine's jacked up the AC, which Enzo takes great care to return to its previous state by the time Damon comes out, which isn't always, Bonnie returns to her job, which is basically brewing more coffee and explaining why they don't have popcorn.

"This is a cinema," April Young says.

"Yes, I work here," Bonnie says.

"And you don't have popcorn?"

"We have coffee."

"But no popcorn."

"You've said that."

"How do people watch movies then?"

"Um," Bonnie says. "Usually by sitting still for about an hour and a half, two hours if Damon falls asleep at the reels–"

"No, I meant–" April sighs. "How do people enjoy movies?"

"Um," Bonnie says. "Usually by sitting still for about an hour and a half, two hours if Damon falls asleep at the reels–"

"You know what, never mind. I'll have a Coke."

"Enjoy your movie," Bonnie smiles.

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Caroline's not sure how long Damon's family's had this place exactly, but they still kept the original red velvet curtains covering the screen, the woodwork and the wainscotting is still exquisitely preserved, remnants of the theatre days of old.

Sometimes Stefan remembers that he owns one half of the theatre too. He's less tetchy than Damon, but he has his vices.

" _The Intouchables_ ," Stefan says when Caroline approaches the booth.

Caroline presses her lips together, chastising herself for being dumb enough to spend her only day off here of all places. But then she remembers the AC.

"I actually came here to ask about my paycheck. It hasn't come in yet."

"So you're not here to watch _The Intouchables_?"

"I've already seen it." Four times, Caroline doesn't add. One of those times someone had snuck their cat in and the theatre smelled like piss the entire day.

"Great movie."

"It is. So about my pay–"

"Can't imagine why you wouldn't want to watch it again," Stefan continues, going back to his book, "Omar Sy is something else."

"Yeah –"

"There is really no other movie I'd rather watch on a Tuesday afternoon."

Caroline takes a breath. "Stefan."

"Caroline." He flips a page.

Caroline sighs. "One ticket for _The Intouchables_ , please."

Stefan's already printed it out. When he hands it to her there's an envelope with her payslip inside, and Caroline can't find it in herself to be frustrated.

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From where she's standing, the screen looks like a strange little puppet show, subtitles in reverse, sounds and lights and bangs. She pushes aside the curtain, heavy and lush in her hands, and peeks at all the faces illuminated by the screen, eyes reflected eerily in the dark, nobody saying a word. It seemed almost ritualistic.

Katherine appears, as she always does, with a flask in her hand. Silently she passes it to Caroline, and together they sit cross legged behind the curtain, drinking and not talking, until the lights go on. Then it's back to work.

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" – don't have popcorn?"

"We have coffee."

"And air conditioning," Enzo says.

"The only reason why we're here, really," Katherine agrees.

Rebekah looks confused for all of two seconds before her sneer is back in place. "But no popcorn."

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"Psst - _hey."_

She's drank too much. Her skull is pounding and her mouth's dry, the bass is thrumming off the walls, she really needs to put her head down somewhere, and talking is taking up pretty much taken over all cognitive abilities she has at the moment, and _the dude still has not stopped recording the movie_.

"What?" he asks, not bothering to whisper. It grinds somewhere against the back of her eyes.

"Stop recording the movie."

"I'm not."

"Yes you are," she says, intelligently swatting his phone out of his hand.

Except it isn't a phone, but a notepad, and the tiny little light she'd assumed was his camera's flash was actually - Jesus, was that a pen with _lights_ attached to it?

"You're not," Caroline says.

"I'm not," he says, sounding rather irritated, and then he flashes the light up to her eyes, perhaps to look into the face of she who had so rudely accosted him. The sudden bright flash is _searing_ , and Caroline accidentally punches him in the eye.

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This is how she meets Klaus Mikaelson.

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"I was really drunk," Caroline tells him later, feeling really drunk.

Klaus says nothing, just presses the can of 7 Up into his right eye. He's not smiling but he's not scowling either, which maybe would have been better, because now Caroline's both drunk _and_ guilty, and neither Enzo or Katherine are here to swoop in as they usually do.

"I was enjoying that film," Klaus says.

"I know," Caroline says, feeling wretched. "But, hey - free movie? On me? Where you can take as many notes as you like?"

"The last showing was today, wasn't it?"

"We can extend foreign film week," Caroline says, in the helpless way one does when one has fucked up a situation.

And Klaus - there's a smile on his face now, slow and wolfish. "All for me?"

"For your black eye," Caroline says, frowning. She wrings her hands because if she doesn't, she might do something stupid, like touch him.

"And when would this be?"

Damon, who had popped out for a smoke and looked suitably disappointed that Bonnie wasn't there, zeroes in on Klaus' bruised eye socket. "Did Barbie do that?"

"I was drunk," Caroline says, and maybe if she wasn't so drunk she'd realize it's not exactly something you should say to your boss.

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Which is how she ends up double-shifting it, and she's so hungover she can't even stand, but does Damon care? He'd gone up to his little nest before she could even protest.

"Look," she whispers to Klaus, "I know I punched you and you're the last person on earth who would want to help me, but I'm just - _really_ hungover right now and I'm supposed to be checking on the crowd but obviously I can't do that right now and I'd appreciate it if you could cover for me or something; I'll bribe Damon into playing nothing but Jon Luc Godard for you the entire month if I have to, if you'll just let me _sleep_."

She says all this in one long exhale, and without waiting for a response promptly falls asleep next to him.

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When she wakes up, the movie's finished, and there's a jacket covering her. The owner of the jacket is gone, but there's a notepad in one of the pockets, and she thinks that maybe this is a test, because she doesn't look through it at all.

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The next day Klaus is back, and she returns his jacket and his notepad, sober and sheepish. "Do you always take notes in movies?"

"Not always," he says. "Not on the first watch. Ruins the immersion for me."

"Are you writing a paper?"

"I'm looking to critique one, actually." Klaus ducks his head before clearing his throat. "That directors are considered the author of a film as opposed to the writers."

"Really? And why is that?"

"Based purely on how they have their own particular styles that gives direction and flavour to a film."

"Really?" Caroline says again, but this time she's frowning. "Should directors really be celebrated for that? I thought it was a universal thing to have your own style."

Klaus smiles at her, corner of his eyes crinkling. "Yes, that's exactly it. But you know who side-steps all this criticism? Jon Luc Godard." His smile dimples in something like admiration, his eyes taking on a wistful quality, "He's a genre of his own. He was known to write, direct, produce, and sometimes even edit his own films."

"Pretty cool," Caroline smiles back. "What else is in that notepad of yours?"

"Well." Klaus looks shy all of a sudden. "The paper goes on to claim that there are no good and bad films, only good and bad directors."

"Truffaut wrote that." Enzo appears. "Load of crock."

Whether or not Klaus thought it was a load of crock or not Caroline doesn't know, because he does not actually react to Enzo suddenly having his notepad in his hand, flipping idly through it. But his hand does twitch.

"Can I have that back?"

"Auteur theory," Enzo reads, sounding delighted. "You think film is a voyeuristic medium? Do tell."

Klaus looks reluctant, and then angry, and then reluctant again. It all happens within the span of one second. Caroline waits, fascinated. "It is voyeuristic. When watching films we're submitting ourselves to the moment. We passively sit back and watch what goes on on screen, and constantly make value judgements about it. It's only good or bad in terms of one's standards or priorities."

Caroline tilts her head. "So there are no good and bad directors either?"

Klaus looks pleased that she's caught on. Caroline tries not to look pleased. "Let's look at Hitchcock. We go in thinking we're a respectable audience, but he loves to – and often does – deconstruct that belief. The audience learns the secrets of his characters before the characters themselves do. He makes us aware that we are taking part in a peep show, not watching a film. "

"And that's highly unrespectable," Enzo nods.

"Don't you mean disrespectful?" Caroline asks.

"No, I don't." Enzo turns back to Klaus. "Loved _Rear Window_ as a kid. When he turns to us and demands to know what we want of him – goosebumps."

"How ethical," Caroline says.

"Or lack thereof," Enzo says. "You writing a paper or something?"

Klaus frowns, "No, I'm critiquing one."

"Good on you, mate," Enzo says in that way of his, "but you are writing one about the writing of one."

"Well, if you put it that way," Caroline laughs.

Klaus scowls. "My notepad. Now, if you may."

"Right here, haven't lost it." Enzo hands it back to him with a smile before leaving. "Cheers."

"Does he always do that?" Klaus asks.

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Damon's smoking out front because he constantly thinks that he's in a David Fincher movie, watching Bonnie to see if she's watching him. She rarely ever is, busy as she is explaining why they only serve coffee here and not popcorn. Caroline throws him a sympathetic glance from the heavy glass doors before heading to Stefan.

" _Pierrot le Fou_ ," Stefan says.

"No," Caroline says. "Listen, I need to talk to you–"

"About that Kai thing, yeah. I think he might really be a weather witch. Or should it be wizard? Is there some other gender-neutral term for it?"

Caroline stops to ponder on this. "Bonnie's Grams says that everyone south of this town is a witch. And I think wizard means _wise man_."

"So male witches are still called witches?" Stefan asks.

"Just like male nurses are still called nurses," Caroline says. "But anyway. Remember when I accidentally punched Klaus?"

"I wouldn't call it an accident." Klaus appears. "You punched me."

Caroline pales. "Yeah, and I apologized."

"No need," Klaus waves. "Just don't call it an accident. It removes purpose from the punch; it was rather a good one."

"Oh," Caroline says, unsure. "Aren't you supposed to be watching your movie?"

"Yes, except I have here a ticket for _Pierrot le Fou."_ Klaus glowers at Stefan, "And I distinctly remember asking for _Departures_."

"Amazing movie," Stefan says. "Best foreign film award, if I remember. But _Pierrot le Fou'_ s a classic."

"I thought you were on a Godard kick?" Caroline asks. "What about your paper?"

"Critique," Klaus corrects her. "And I've changed my mind. Won't be writing it."

"Why?" Caroline asks, curious.

"No reason." Klaus avoids her eyes, tilts his jaw at Stefan instead. "The _right_ ticket this time, mate."

Stefan merely points his thumb at the sign next to him that said, in block letters, TICKETS ARE NON-REFUNDABLE.

"I'm not asking for a refund," Klaus scowls. "I'm asking you to give me the ticket I paid for."

"Hey, I don't make the rules."

"Yes you do," Caroline says. "You own this place."

Stefan ignores her. "Can't you just buy a new ticket?"

Klaus' eyes narrow into slits. "What are you playing at, Salvatore?"

Behind the scratched glass Stefan's doing that thing where he puffs up his chest, bringing out his Hero Hair. Caroline knows there's only one likely way this might end, from the last time Stefan brought his Hero Hair out. There were tears, for one, and Damon had ended up bleeding into the popcorn machine.

In a corner, Bonnie fiddles with the buttons of the AC - the temperature drops so suddenly that they're all shivering, except Katherine, who's practically mewling in delight.

"If you're all going to have a good brawl," Bonnie says, "I suggest you take it outside."

The three of them turn their heads outside, to where Alaric seems to be passed out in a puddle of his melted ice-cream.

"No? Too hot for you?" Bonnie quirks her eyebrow. "Then unpuff your chests and watch your damn movie."

"Come on," Caroline says, beckoning Klaus out of the room. He follows, but not immediately.

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"I always end up here if it's a crazy day at work," Caroline tells him. They'd pushed past the red velvet curtains, and now Caroline stands in the middle of the extended alcove behind the screen, where projections swoon and sweep.

She has to stand close to him for him to hear, even if the sound system's a little more muffled where they are. Stacked against the walls are old reels, dusted with age, that Caroline sometimes (most of the times) uses as a coaster for the booze Katherine sneaks her.

Klaus rubs his jaw. "I can't hear myself think."

"Exactly."

"Thanks for covering for me the other day."

"No black eyes were doled out, I can assure you."

Caroline blushes. Klaus looks down.

The sound of an explosion thrums through the room, and for a moment Klaus and Caroline are lit up in orange. He shifts closer to her. "Do you know what I was thinking, that day you fell asleep on my arm?"

"I hope I didn't drool on you, God," Caroline says.

"I was thinking - this is how a man goes mad."

Caroline doesn't blush then. She doesn't know what to think.

They both turn to the screen. The voices sound more distant, faraway. It was dark here, and cool, and comfortable. On the screen, a building crumbles.

"This reminds me of an ending of a film," Klaus says, and very timidly, reaches for her hand.

"You're thinking _Fight Club_ ," Caroline says, and grasps his hand in hers.

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Since Klaus has been spending a lot of his time at that rundown theater across town instead of wreaking the usual havoc he wreaked, Elijah walks in one day wanting to know why.

Stefan takes one look at him, and says, " _Finding Nemo_."

Elijah looks startled. "How did you know?"

"I'm just perceptive," Stefan says, and with a print of the ticket he adds, like an afterthought, "Enjoy your movie."

 _fin_


End file.
